


Bread and Wine

by Geonn



Category: Riese the Series
Genre: Dark, F/F, Masturbation, Missing Scene, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-17
Updated: 2012-08-17
Packaged: 2017-11-12 08:35:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/488866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geonn/pseuds/Geonn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aliza relaxes after an attack on a Sect convoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bread and Wine

The supply train chose a path through the forest, sacrificing security for convenience. There was a point where the path crossed a river, and the only way across was a wooden bridge. The Resistance was waiting there. A furious swarm of arrows, coming down on the wagons like angry bees, and then the shouts from their commander. The Resistance soldiers appeared from the woods as if they'd been disguised as the trees, moving silently through fallen leaves. A crossbow spit an arrow at the man reaching for his weapon, and the rest of the guard gave up after a quick but dedicated skirmish. 

Aliza kept her crossbow at the ready as she climbed into the final wagon in the train. She threw back the blanket that covered their cargo and tried not to let her excitement show. Rand was standing at the edge of the road, breathing heavily as he made sure the final guard had been cowed. He met her eyes, and Aliza said, "Food."

Rand's lips pressed together into a tight smile and he nodded, once. Aliza dropped the blanket back into place and walked to the front of the wagon. The drivers had already surrendered, but Aliza pressed the tip of her arrow against one's shoulder and said, "Out. Now."

The men scrambled from the wagon as Rand motioned one of the Resistance men forward. "Get this food to the people who need it," Rand said. "We'll see you back at the camp."

The soldier clasped Rand's hand, nodded to Aliza, and climbed into the seat. Aliza climbed down as the new driver turned the horses on the ice-packed road. There was a village nearby that resisted the Sect, and Amara had long ago cut off their supplies. They did what they could hunting and farming, but winter was harsh on everyone. A wagon of Sect provisions would go a long way to help people survive until the next harvest.

"Some of their men got away," Aliza said. "It won't be long before they return with reinforcements."

Rand nodded. "Let's get what we can from the rest of these wagons before they show up." He met Aliza's gaze and offered her a rare smile. "A good day." 

She smiled back, but it faded quickly as she instructed their soldiers to start unloading the wagons.

#

Back at the camp, several of the soldiers chose to celebrate their victory with wine and music. Aliza remained close by, giving them the allusion that she was joining in without actually partaking. She had retrieved her arrows from the wagons before they left the picked-apart convoy, and now she was sharpening their blades so they could be used again just as effectively. She held one arrow up, examining how the light glinted off the sharp edge before she applied the whetstone again.

"We had a good day."

She didn't look back, but she knew Rand was watching their soldiers revel. "Might not be so good next time," Aliza said.

"Still. You don't have to spend your entire life preparing for the next battle."

Aliza bit back the scathing comment that was on the tip of her tongue. 

Rand patted her shoulder gently before he stepped away. "I'm not saying you have to get drunk and act like a fool. But an extra hour or two of sleep... I think you've earned that much."

Aliza looked down at her arrows, the last one of which had been sharpened to an acceptable sharpness. She returned the arrows to the quiver and picked it up and slung the strap across her shoulder. She walked away from the singing and laughter, the stink of alcohol and desire that came with intoxication, and returned to her hut. 

She put aside her weapons once she was safely in her home, although safe was such a relative term in her life. She undid her cloak and draped it across the back of her only chair, stopping to sit only long enough to remove her boots. The moment Rand mentioned sleep, a deep exhaustion had settled over her, almost as if he had drawn a shade down over her mind. He was crafty that way. 

Her bed was small and adorned with only a single coverlet, and she crawled underneath it without bothering to undress. Her uniform was her protection and her cover. With a heavy shawl and her hooded cloak, she could pass for a man. Without them, she was a frail girl with pretty blonde hair and delicate features. While being underestimated could definitely work in her favor at times, she preferred to wear the disguise as often as possible.

Aliza settled against the pillows and stared at the ceiling. She could still hear the soldiers, partaking of their spoils in the center of camp. Her mind filled with the worst possible scenarios. Sect soldiers, angry at having their convoy stolen, take to the woods to retrieve it. Drawn by the loud laughter and firelight, they tear through the camp like a fierce winter storm, killing anything that moved. 

She eyed her crossbow and quiver in the dim light of her hut and pressed her lips into a thin line. Despite her exhaustion, she doubted sleep would come until she knew they were safe. She would lie there and wait, at the ready, in case the noise brought destruction to their home. 

She slipped her hand under the pillow and her fingers brushed something small and square. She withdrew it, the picture that no one - not even Rand - knew that she possessed. A photograph of the royal family, taken not long before their slaughter at the hands of the Sect faithful. It was creased in three lines, two vertical and one length-wise, and one corner had been scorched by a fire. Many of the faces were blurred, but one was crystal clear.

Rand was certain the princess had survived. He scrounged for photographs of the royal family and distributed them to their soldiers so they would know her on sight. The pictures were supposed to be passed around, exchanged so no one became locked into a single pose or hairstyle or outfit. They needed to know Riese's features as clearly as their own. But Aliza couldn't bring herself to give up this photograph. 

In it, Riese was looking into the camera with wide, dark eyes. Her lips were slightly curled, as if catching the photographer looking at her. Her hands were held in front of her, ungloved, the slender fingers curled around each other as she waited for whatever was to happen after the photo was taken. Aliza ran her eyes over Riese's arms; she was muscular, but not in an obvious way. She was strong. If anyone could survive in this forest with the Sect actively hunting her, it would be the princess.

Aliza ran her thumb over Riese's cheekbone. She had never been a fan of the royal family. There were far too many problems that were simply ignored because they only affected the peasants. Their subjects were hardly entities in the eyes of the ruling family. Outside the palace walls, hundreds could fall ill and die and no one seemed to care. But with all their problems, they had never been as cruel or devastating as the Sect.

Regardless of what the king and queen had done, there was no denying Riese's beauty. Aliza shifted underneath her covers, moving her free hand down between her legs. Let the other soldiers have their drink and their frantic humping in the woods; this was her reward to herself. She unfastened her leather belt and tugged at the string that hugged her pants to her slender hips. Once it was loose, she brushed her hand over the flat plain of her stomach. Down to the hair between her legs, staring into the slightly blurry stare of Riese.

Rand dreamed of finding the princess, sure that it would lead to the downfall of the Sect. Aliza fully believed that _Rand_ would be the downfall of the Sect, the surviving princess be damned. But she would follow his orders, and not solely for the reasons she gave in public. She wanted to see the princess herself, wanted to touch her face with her fingers and really feel her. Really be with her in the same point of time.

Aliza gasped as her fingers explored, using two to spread herself open while the middle two to stroke herself. She imagined it was the princess, imagined she was being rewarded for her dedication to the search. _"Thank you for finding me, Aliza."_

She licked her lips and pressed her head into the pillow. She pressed the heel of her hand against her mound, two fingers inside of herself, moving her hips in a slow rhythm to meet her fingers. The fingers of her other hand tightened, wrinkling the photograph she held. She stared at Riese, the lines of the picture soft like a half-remembered dream or a vision seen through a foggy window. 

_The palace ballroom, the windows glowing like a lantern, and young Aliza sneaking through the yard. It was a shortcut to the bakery, and she had a warm loaf tucked underneath her shawl. But she couldn't resist a peek, just a quick glance through the glass. Her breath fogged the glass, but she didn't wipe it away. She looked through the haze, the bread cooling against her hip, and the princess turned to look toward the window as if alerted by a noise._

_Their eyes met briefly before Aliza realized she had been seen and ducked out of sight. She hugged the loaf of bread, her family's dinner, and waited for the guards to come and drag her away. She couldn't bring herself to run._

_The doors opened and the princess stepped out. She held her gown up, exposing feet in tiny slippers that were tied around her ankles. The princess looked toward the street and then turned to look at the wall. Aliza was in the shadows and didn't move, hoping they would keep her concealed from the princess and her prying eyes. Finally, the princess bent and placed something on the stoop. She stepped back, turned, and went back into the ballroom._

_Aliza carefully made her way to the door. The object was a goblet of red wine. The surface of it had caught the moon overhead, making it dance among the ripples. Aliza scooped up the wine and took a quick drink. She held it in her mouth before she swallowed. It tasted fruity, tart, but not entirely objectionable. She drank the rest quickly and put the glass back on the stoop. She looked around to see if anyone had spotted her and, satisfied she'd been spared a night in the gaol, she ran back home with her bread._

Aliza parted her lips in a silent gasp as she climaxed. Her fantasies of the princess often involved ludicrous scenarios. Dancing in elegant shoes, spending an evening stuffing herself full of food before retiring to a plush bed behind walls lined with sentries. She doubted she could ever feel that comfortable or that safe. She knew she would never get any closer to Riese than she had that night with the wine. 

She relaxed against her bed with a sigh, her hand still cupping her mound and the other still clutching the photograph of Princess Riese. She returned the picture to its spot under her pillow, withdrew her hand from her trousers, and tugged the covers more tightly around herself as she rolled onto her side to finally sleep. The camp had grown quieter, and she knew that the other soldiers were finally adjourning to their own beds for the night. 

Perhaps one day Rand would get his wish and they would find the princess, alive and surviving despite all opposition. Until that day came, she was happy to stand beside him and fight to stop the Sect from destroying the land she loved.


End file.
